Migraine
by MirrorDede
Summary: Gilbert's got a migraine, and Break's there to help. H/C and fluff. Takes place during the time while Oz was gone.


**Summary:** Gilbert's got a migraine, and Break's there to help. H/C and fluff. Takes place during the time while Oz was gone.

**Words:** 1901

**Rating:** PG-13 (lots of Gilbert suffering, poor guy)

**Writer's Note:** Thanks to total_alias for beta reviewing!

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The storm clouds were gathering in the sky outside Gilbert's apartment, and his headache had been getting worse by the hour. At first it was a generalized, dull pain, but then it shifted to the left side of his head, just behind his forehead. _Oh no, not a migraine,_ he thought.

_Knock, knock, knock! _

The pounding on the door was insistent and the rhythm of it throbbed in his head. He felt the headache take a turn for the worse the moment he stood up. Wearily, he put his hand up to his forehead, stepped slowly across the floor and unlatched the door.

"Hellooo, Gilbert-kun!" sing-songed Xerxes Break, as he pushed through the doorway with his cane to invite himself into Gilbert's apartment. "Looking gloomy as ever, I see. And I thought that by using the door this time, you'd be happy, hmm?"

"Break…" Gilbert muttered, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. "I…uh…" He lost his train of thought, and his vision blurred.

"I was just dropping by to see how you're doing, Gilbert-kun. Since I was in the area. You know, around the corner is the most wonderful candy shoppe." He took a box of candies out of his hat and offered one to the younger man.

Oblivious to the offer, Gilbert stumbled over to the sofa and collapsed onto it.

Break frowned and said,

"Oh dear, have I come at a bad time?"

The pain crept into a particular, concentrated spot in Gilbert's forehead, and with it came a wave of nausea. He covered his eyes with one arm, and rubbed his stomach with the other.

"C-could you…close the curtains, Break?"

The white-haired man looked at his young subordinate with a careful eye, noting with some consternation how unusually pale and sweaty he looked. Then he closed the curtains as requested.

"Is it another headache, Gilbert-kun?" His voice was a mix of curiosity and concern. "You really should see a doctor about those, I think." He tapped his chin with his finger and gazed thoughtfully upon the dark-haired man.

The light in the apartment was now quite dim and Gilbert took his arm off his eyes and went back to rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. But the pain and sick feeling were just getting worse by the moment. Trying to suppress a quivering moan, he doubled up, then rolled over and fell off the sofa.

Break dropped his cane in surprise, knelt down and put his hand on the other man's shoulder, while Gilbert pressed the painful spot on his head against the cold, hard floor. It helped for a brief moment, but then the pain surged and pulsated unbearably, and he cried out and started hitting his head against the floor, desperate to make the pain go away.

"Gilbert-kun!" gasped Break. "You'll really hurt yourself if you–"

"SHUT UP!" cried Gilbert. "No noise…just…" he started whimpering.

Break leaned back against the sofa and stretched his legs out, then whispered,

"Put your head in my lap, hmm?"

He stroked the other man's hair and rested his hand on the back of his neck, then maneuvered his other hand under his forehead and tried to help him lift his head. Slowly, Gilbert raised his head just enough to collapse it back down on the older man's lap.

"Is this where it hurts?" Break pressed his thumb against Gilbert's forehead.

"Uh huh…" Gilbert muttered. Squeezing his eyes shut, he appreciated not having to take the effort to apply the pressure himself. They lay there like that for several minutes, with Break rubbing his forehead. Slowly succumbing to terrible nausea, Gilbert felt himself drifting into delirium, and then jolted back to half reality with a shiver of fear. "Break! Stay with me! I'm going to die!"

"You're not going to die, Gilbert-kun," Break said kindly. "In any case, I will certainly stay with you."

Gilbert felt the strangest sensation in his throat and the back of his neck, and found he couldn't speak without having the urge to vomit. After a few moments, his upset stomach became unbearable, and Gilbert tried to warn - but it was too late. He threw up on Break's lap and then fell back on the floor, revolted and embarrassed. A sour smell hung in the air.

"Eh...well," muttered Break, feeling the warm wetness seep into his shirt and trousers. "I'm sorry you feel so unwell, Gilbert-kun…em…I do hope I can find something to wear in your closet."

He stood up and quickly realized he was going to have to undress right there, lest he risk dripping vomit all over the floor. In the subdued light, he saw Gilbert's face pressed into the floor and felt somewhat confident that he could strip down to his underwear right there without the other man seeing something he didn't want him to see - namely, a certain mark on his chest. Nevertheless, he turned his back to Gilbert, hastily took off his clothes and left them in a heap, then dashed into Gilbert's closet.

He tried on several outfits, and they were all disconcertingly large.

"This won't do," muttered Break to himself as he tried on yet another pair of trousers that would not stay up on their own. Finally he found an outfit that Gilbert hadn't worn since he was a teenager, and this was the one Break ended up wearing. _How embarrassing,_ thought Break,_ he grew up so much bigger than me._ The sound of Gilbert's moaning crept into the closet and worried him more than he cared to admit.

Gilbert was curled up in a ball when Break returned.

"Let's get you up on the bed," said Break quietly.

"I-I can't move."

"It can't be helped then, I'll just have to lift you." And with some effort, he picked up the suffering man in his arms and placed him in bed, then pulled the covers over him.

"Don't leave me!" whimpered Gilbert, lying on his side in the fetal position.

Break sighed and climbed into bed alongside him. Facing Gilbert, he put his arm around him and rubbed his back consolingly. Slowly, the dark-haired man moved closer to the darkness and warmth he sensed in front of him, and before he fully realized what he was doing he had buried his face in Break's chest. The older man held him close and smoothed down his unruly hair, so it wouldn't be tickling his face so much as they lay there. After a little while, Gilbert relaxed into the warmth and comfort of his companion. His pain subsided just enough, that his whimpering ceased and he drifted off to sleep. Break wasn't normally the sort who would let his guard down enough to fall asleep in someone else's presence, but the dark, still room, coupled with the regular breathing of the other man – who he was holding on to like a teddy bear – worked their effect on him and soon he was sound asleep as well. The breeze blew the curtains in and let in some light, but the two were oblivious to it.

In this way another hour or two passed, until a strike of lightening fell and Gilbert awoke, headache significantly diminished. He pulled back, and saw – in the light let in by the wind-blown curtain – a large bloodstain on Break's white shirt.

"Break!" he said, shaking him. "Are you okay?"

"Uuhh…" Break blinked a few times, still half-asleep. "What's…where am I?" Then he saw blood all over Gilbert's face and cried out with concern, "Gilbert-kun! You're bleeding!"

"So are you!" Gilbert pointed at his chest.

Break unbuttoned his shirt at the top and peeked inside, but saw no injury. Gilbert crawled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, where he caught sight of himself in the mirror. _Nosebleed_, he thought. _Post-migraine nosebleed_. He cleaned up and went back to Break, who was closing the window to prevent the rain from getting in.

"Are you all right?" he said, looking at Gilbert's face.

Gilbert nodded.

"Just a nosebleed. It's fine now."

"I see," he said, sounding relieved. "Seems I'm going to have to borrow another shirt from you Gilbert-kun," Break said, walking toward the closet to exchange the blood-stained shirt for a fresh one.

Gilbert looked at the pile of Break's clothes on the floor and remembered what had happened a little while earlier. He sighed, picked up the clothes, tossed them in the bathtub and started washing them out. While he was doing that, he sensed Break come into the bathroom, and heard a tinkling sound. He was tempted to make a snide comment, but then recalled that the older man had certainly had seen enough of Gilbert's body fluids for one day, so the least he could do was be tolerant of this unexpected informality on Break's part.

When Gilbert came out to the living area once more, Break was eating a lollipop with his feet up on the sofa.

"If you're well again, perhaps you could make some tea?" Break rolled back the sleeves of the borrowed shirt.

"Are you ever going to learn how to boil a pot of water, Break?" Gilbert grumbled.

"No need. There's always someone about who can do it for me!" He grinned. "Really Gilbert-kun, beyond sword play, I have very few useful skills." His face fell a little as he muttered that last bit.

Gilbert went into the kitchen and put a pot of water on to boil. He thought back to just a short while ago, when he woke up in the arms of that annoying old man - that crazy, irritating man who infuriated him on frequent occasions. He felt the lingering sensation of that man's chest on his forehead and the memory of his arms around his shoulders, the gentle stroking – how calming that was. Gilbert sighed and went back to Break, pushed his legs aside and sat down beside him on the sofa.

"You know," said Gilbert. "I-I really appreciate that you stayed with me."

"Hm," murmured Break, crunching his lollipop. "Not a problem, Gilbert-kun."

"Y-you can actually…be a nice person sometimes." Gilbert said, with a vague sense of wonder in his voice. "Somehow I…I trust you more now."

Break scratched the seal on his chest, which at times felt itchy when his nerves were getting to him. Eager to change the subject, he hopped up from the sofa and said, "Have you seen Emily?"

Gilbert thought for a moment.

"Check the bathtub."

Break went into the bathroom and found Emily in the bathtub, soaking wet under his purple shirt. He rung her out and tried to dry her with a towel.

"Perhaps we could put her in the oven to dry off?" Break asked Gilbert when he came back to the living room.

"Oven's broken," muttered Gilbert, happy to think that annoying doll would be out of commission for a day.

"Oh…" Break looked sadly at her soggy body. He was still for a moment and looked rather dejected.

"She's really important to you?" queried the dark-haired man, lighting up a cigarette.

Break nodded.

"Mm. I…usually can't sleep without her," he said so quietly that Gilbert barely heard. "Ah well!" Break brightened up. "I guess I can just sleep with _you_ till she's dry, hmm?"

"Break…" Gilbert took a drag of his cigarette. He didn't need to say anything more, because Break knew the answer was 'yes.'

END


End file.
